“Nay,” Ivy said glumly. “She has not moved a muscle.”
Alec’s jaw twitched, unusual for the usually controlled man. “I shall move her inside.”
“Do not touch her!” Ivy spat, throwing her arm over her sister possessively. “This is your fault! If you had not…!”
“We have been through this, demoiselle,” Ali said calmly, grasping Ivy by the arm. “Move aside so that we may remove your sister.”
Ivy grunted and cursed as Ali pulled her from the bed of the wagon. Alec leapt into the vacated spot and gazed down at Peyton’s sleeping face. A peculiar stab clutched at him, something he was unable to interpret as he studied the fine features and creamy skin. Irritated with unfamiliar feelings, he scooped Peyton into his massive arms and climbed down from the rig.
Olphampa peered at the burden in his arms. “Who is this, Alec?”
Alec glanced down at the perfect, porcelain face. “This is the Lady Peyton de Fluornoy. Send Pauly to her room and tell him that….”
“She doesn’t need your help,” Ivy burst angrily, in Ali’s grasp. “Jubil can take care of her.”
As the name was mentioned, all eyes turned to look at the older woman seated on the wagon bench. Jubil sat in a haze of glory, her eyes unfocused and a foolish smile on her lips. Ivy, sheepish as well as angry, slanted Alec a reluctant gaze.
“Well…. she will tend her when she is feeling better,” she mumbled. “I shall care for Peyton until that time.”
Alec ignored Ivy and turned to Ali. “Find Pauly. Tell him that the lady has struck her head and has been unconscious for an hour, at least. Make haste, man.”
Ali handed Ivy over to another knight and went on his way. Alec turned to Olphampa. “See that the woman in the wagon is brought to the de Fluornoy suite.” Passing a final questioning glance at trance-like Jubil, he hurried on his way.
Inside, the castle was warm and fragrant, full of laughing people and gay music. Directly in front of him loomed the widearch to the main hall, decorated with fresh rushes and fragrant flowers. Beyond was a roomful of merry revelers.
But Alec paid the party little heed as he headed for the wide staircase to his left, shifting Peyton in his arms as he neared the steps. He kept glancing at her still face, looking for a glimmer of arousal.
As he neared the stairs, he heard his name wafting above the music and he slowed to an impatient halt. Dressed in a fine silk tunic trimmed in gold embroider, Brian approached his son, his dark face creased with surprise.
“What’s this?” he demanded, gesturing to Peyton. “Where have you been? Lady Caroline has been asking for you. Her father is….”
Alec cut him off, mounting the first step. “I have no time to stand and chat. I must get Lady Peyton to her room.”
Brian frowned at his son’s rudeness and was prepared to rebuke him when the meaning of Alec’s words abruptly settled. “Lady Peyton? What do you mean?”
Alec did not answer his father until he reached the second floor corridor. Brian tailed after him like an eager dog. “Lady Peyton has injured herself,” he said. “I have sent for Pauly.”
Brian had a shortage of patience and stopped his son as he attempted to enter the assigned de Fluornoy rooms. “Lady Peyton? Alec, I thought we agreed that Lady Peyton was to return home. If she is injured, then….”
Alec pushed past his father and into the room. Carefully, he laid Peyton’s limp body on the soft mattress and stood back, gazing down at her unbelievable beauty. Beside him, he heard his father gasp.
“This is Lady Peyton?” he echoed in disbelief. “Well…. damnation, I do not understand. If this is Lady Peyton, then who was that creature in the bailey today?”
“’Twas she,” Alec said, still gazing at her. Then he turned humored eyes to his father. “It would seem that she and her sister were intent on discouraging you from selecting husbands for them. They believed that the more unattractive they appeared, the less likely you would force them into betrothals.”
Brian looked aghast. Open mouthed, he looked to Peyton once more. “The vixen!” he peered closely at her, leaning over the bed and studying her carefully. “By God, Alec, she is a fine piece of work,” he leaned closer, observing the color of her hair in the firelight. Then he snorted. “Fine, indeed. I had no idea Albert’s daughter was so fair. I cannot remember ever witnessing such beauty.”
Alec watched his father inspect Peyton as he would have inspected a prize mare, scrutinizing every feature. Alec would have been inspecting her too had he not been so concerned for her health. The knot on her head was the size of an egg and her lack of lucidity was not a good sign.
“What about the other sister? Is she fair as well?” Brian asked, still hunched over Peyton.
“Fair enough,” Alec answered, his gaze lingering on Peyton’s sweet face. “Not the beauty her sister is, but pretty nonetheless.”
“Excellent,” Brian said. “I am pleased to hear….”
Before he could finish his sentence, a balled fist suddenly came up and caught him on the lip. Brian stumbled back as Peyton came to life, struggling to scramble off the bed as Alec moved to intercept her. Her feet were nearly to the floor when Alec was upon her, pushing her back onto the mattress.
Frightened and disoriented, Peyton shrieked and struggled towards the other side of the bed, but Brian was positioned to stop her. Effectively boxed in, she froze in the center of the wide bed with the expression of a hunted deer.
